


Questionable darkness

by Thefacelesswriter



Category: IDubbbzTV - Fandom, Maxmoefoe - Fandom, The Filthy Frank Show (Web Series), Your Dad's basement, hell - Fandom
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Threesome, kill me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thefacelesswriter/pseuds/Thefacelesswriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge isn't sweet. It tastes like vodka, cigarettes, and sweat soaked skin. That isn't to say it doesn't taste good. Sexual sequel to 'Stains on Cheap Satin'. Read that before attempting this one. Don't worry, it's just as cancerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Light-headed

**Author's Note:**

> All fucking three of you asked for it and all of the entire world is getting it, the sequel to my shitty story I wrote last week. This first chapter isn't very seXUal. Originally, the story was going to be one great big sum. Now it'll be in chapters. Enjoy, I guess. 
> 
> Also (again), with this story I am not implying Joji is some kind of sexual predator or sadistic bastard. I know I don't really need to specify this considering we're all smart enough to tell fiction from reality but I better do so anyway in case one stupid fuck ruins the party. And if Joji or Max ever read this I'll change names and countries to live out my life as a Sherpa.

Nobody had noticed Joji slip out of the bathroom. Chad had fallen comatose on the couch and Ian, after breaking the ceiling light, was trying to defrost bread in the microwave. At least that’s what he assumed he was seeing through the screen door. It seemed like whatever video Max had planned had come to a slow and drunken halt. Joji used this excuse to take a smoke break, retreating to the cold expanse of concrete, weeds, and cracked plastic that someone dared call a backyard. He smoked in the serene silence of midnight, facing the darkness while his eyes were trained on the hallway. It was half a pack later before he finally saw Max stumble meekly into the living room, dress still on. He seemed to assess the scene with distaste and before long it became clear he was looking for Joji.

            “That was, like, a half hour shit you took. Did your dress get stuck in the toilet?” Chad asked.

            “Fuck off cunt, just had to do some stuff before we started filming” Max retorted weakly. Even from outside Joji could hear the exhaustion in his voice. He knew whatever they filmed tonight would barely be passable. “Where the fuck did you put John Cena, Ian? We still need him” As Max turned to search through the mess of settee cushions the unzipped dress showed a V of skin down Max’s back. The skin there was blemish free and pale, a surprisingly pure trait of someone so fucked.

            “Oi George, we’re filming. Finish your ciggie!” Max finally looked through the glass of the door to him. His face betrayed him of any normality it tried to portray. His smile fell short and his glare was half-hearted, mingled with confusion as to _why_ he should’ve been angry. It must’ve been infuriating to see the man who’d just left him half hard enjoying a cigarette and a beer, feeling no real regret over it. Max broke the eye contact, feigning a laugh at something Ian said. Joji finished his cigarette, drowning the butt of it in an abandoned Corona. He didn’t want to act like an ass right now. He wanted to record the steady drip of rain on a tin roof, maybe film the gentle transcendence of a quiet neighbourhood. Joji longed for the quiet and yet he’d just molested his friend in the bathroom. Why? He couldn’t really tell why though already he knew the answer would be just as terrible as the act itself.

            “Coming...” he finally answered, leaving the garden behind him.

             The night ended for them not long after, during the early morning when Ian –once again- smashed a light-bulb. None of them had been sober or active enough to bother picking up the glass from the chunks of crushed watermelon, curtains trodden into the sickly juices, and an entire bag of coal dragged through the house. The mess was a reminder of impending exhaustion that they’d all been putting off for days. As Chad stumbled into the recesses of his bedroom with a mumbled goodnight, Max designated beds. He hadn’t released his hold on the vodka bottle since leaving the bathroom.  

            “Ian, since you’ve pretty much destroyed my house you get the fold out mattress in the settee unless you want to snuggle up to him,” he pointed to Joji with the end of his bottle, “in the spare room.”     

            “I’d probably fuck George in my sleep, since I’m a gay retard and all. Better not risk that rape” Ian said with a sluggish laugh. Max visibly flinched, quietly dismissing himself to god knows where. Joji watched Ian attempt to assemble the fold out mattress. The taller man looked around the living room before asking: “Is Max alright? He seems a little fucked up.”

            “I dunno” Joji shrugged “He is probably just exhausted, exhausted and trashed.”

“I guess so” With patience and physical violence Ian finally succeeded in folding out the mattress, collapsing on the bare mattress, glasses still on. Joji took it upon him to cautiously shift through the mess they’d made, turning each light off until the house was dark and silent. Only when he was guiding himself along the wall back to the spare room did he see the silhouette through the screen door. Someone was sitting where he had been hours ago. He’d only noticed their presence through the burning ember of a lit cigarette; other than the small light’s movement, the figure was still. Joji couldn’t see a wild tangle of hair or the cheap satin of a second hand dress. Nevertheless, he knew it was there. He closed the door behind him. He retreated into the dark of the spare room.  
                                                                       

                                                                                                                ***

It was hard to tell how long he slept for or whether he was still asleep now. Even in half coherent dreams fuelled he’d heard the tearing sound that pulled him to waking. With the extra tonne of weight on his head Joji longed for unconsciousness again. It was no doubt the excruciating beginnings of a ruthless hangover. His mouth felt like a road in the summer sun. To get water would mean getting up. To get up would worsen the headache and possibly result in vomit.

            “Wake up, George.” He just about jumped to the ceiling when he heard those words barely an arm’s length from him. It was then everything became as clear as it was going to. There was a foreign weight straddling his hips, uncomfortably crushing against his cock. More worrying however was the tight hold around his neck, definitely not hands but something material: Velcro, the tearing sound that had woken him. Joji struggled, hands reaching under his pillow for his phone; a light source, a way to confirm his suspicions on who sat on him, to get water before he dried up and died. Finally he found the smart phone, pressing the home button and shining it upwards.  

Max was still wearing the dress. It had been smeared in coal and smelt of spilt vodka. He looked like a combination of the cat that gotten the cream and the cat that curiousity killed. It was difficult to see the small object he held up with that loathing, shit-eating, drunken grin of his. Joji, with nauseating dread, guessed. He reached around his neck to feel the hard material shock collar and listened to Max’s scoff in the darkness.

            “Look familiar, motherfucker?” Shit.


	2. Haughtiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. I don't care if it hurts. I wanna have control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert the usual rubbish here including lyrics from Radiohead's 'Creep' because I am a very edgy kid with a large collection of knives and violent tendencies towards people who don't like me for good reasons. I don't think Max is a sadistic bastard (not completely anyway) and this merely a rendition of something that would never happen; hence fiction. I write this for you guys and it's your enjoyment that makes me sit back at the computer and keep writing.

Max wasn’t particularly light. An eight kilo bridesmaid dress sopping with a half full bottle of vodka didn’t tend to be feathery in pressure. His weight on Joji was blatant and growing increasingly uncomfortable as the silence between them stretched on. The features on Max’s face had this same heaviness; a fucked-up combination of rage, drunkenness, and poignant bewilderment that looked haunting in the stark phone light. Anything Joji said would surely be held against him in the form of an electric shock. Max would bury his body in the shitty excuse of a yard if he dared try to apologise. 

“I said ‘look familiar’, cunt. Do I have to show you how this toy works for you to remember?”

“No, I know what it is, man” Joji sighed with no lack of fatigue. The room felt like a rainforest with its humidity, every breath bringing with it the smell of stale sweat and musty blankets. His tongue felt like a leather strap unmovable in his mouth. Bordering on the line between drunken and hung-over it was difficult to accept this was reality. From the point that Joji had compulsively chosen to stalk behind a swaying Max into the cramped bathroom to now, straddled with the shock collar like hands around this neck, there hadn’t been a real sense of consequence.

“It’s the shock collar” Max added with a wicked smile, similar to an excited child.  

 “I figured that one out. What voltage have you got it at?”

 “Oh, just eight” Joji had watched Ian take eight voltage. He’d scrambled through lit tea lights and snapping mousetraps screaming for mercy. Even afterwards he’d been like an empty sock puppet, boneless and silent as he struggled to return to normal. Joji clenched his hands into fists and tried not to flinch. “Just enough to get the heart going, at least”

“Max, get off me. This isn’t fucking funny anymore” Joji muttered in a pathetic attempt at bravado. It sounded all too similar to the drunker, more desperate pleas made at him only some hours ago. Max looked down at him with scorn. Even with smudged lipstick he wasn’t a force to be reckoned with.

“It was never meant to be funny. At least not to you...” He barely pressed his thumb on the button before Joji felt it like a knife tearing down his spine. His nerves felt fried into uselessness. After two seconds the current ceased but even its abrupt absence was painful.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” His outburst was unintentional but nevertheless ferocious in delivery. Max, in response, pressed himself hard against his limp cock, crushing his balls. Joji breathed through his nose to try and pass the need to vomit. He couldn’t guarantee that Max wouldn’t save him from drowning in it.

“I don’t remember my name being stupid fucking bitch. Wanna try that one again, George?” It returned again but the pain felt as if it were the first time once more, burning his skin all over again. Joji jutted up, hands tearing at his neck, eyes closed and teeth gritted. He screamed as best he could and even that was agonising, tears spilling down his temples. Someone needed to come, damn the fucked up reactions. He wasn’t going to die half drunk on a dirty mattress. A hand fell hard over his face, fingers pushing against his lips and teeth. 

            “Wouldn’t want the others to find you like this, would you?” The déjà vu was trippy as fuck but only brought dread to a turning stomach. Max’s fingers left his mouth. “Now what’s my name, cunt?”

“Max Max Max Max Max fucking stop please, please” Max finally lifted his thumb from the button but allowed it to hover. The warning was clear. With shaking fingers Joji wiped away his tears and found drool along his chin instead.

                        “I remember when I told you to stop and you fucking gagged me for it.” He wiped his spit slick fingers casually across Joji’s cheek. It was all too easy to be suave with a beer in your hand but now there was nothing but excruciating pain and the blatant fury of his dear friend. Joji couldn’t attempt to defend his actions, especially because he had no fucking clue why he did them. “Do you think I was too fucked up to remember what you did? I was pissed but I wasn’t blackout enough to forget you touching my dick. I mean, it’s this dress isn’t it? Isn’t it what started all this?”

            Yes, it had been a paramount part of what made Joji do it. “No... It isn’t...” He was slapped on his spit covered cheek.

            “You’re a lying cunt!”            

“What do you want me to do then?” Joji finally exclaimed. “Castrate myself, let you fucking kill me, _apologise_?” Max didn’t answer, rather he seemed to struggle with the one he had. He eyed the mattress layered floor and the musty clothes strewn along it.

             “I want you to finish what you started in the bathroom” he blurted quickly with no shortage of huffiness. 

            “Finish what I started?”

            “Didn’t you hear me?” Max exclaimed with a fiery blush, wielding the shock remote again and Joji was certain to assure him that yes, he had heard him clearly. He could hear footsteps outside, the sound of someone too far to hear him with their now whispering voices. Joji still had a hand over the strap of the collar but with one hand and Max’s full attention he couldn’t get it free.

            Moving both hands to his sides in a gesture of compliance Joji leaned up slowly and with considerable caution Max allowed it, shuffling back until they were face to face. His phone finally slept and plunged them into brittle darkness. Though Max was so close he didn’t move closer, arm still up with the remote in hand, thighs splayed and intentionally stone still. Joji could smell and feel an alcoholic breath grazing his cheek but it was in the fastness of his breathing he felt his fear. 

            “You woke me in the middle of a hangover, crushing my cock, and used an shock collar on me,” he breathed these words across the skin he assumed was Max’s shoulder and felt a shudder pass close by, “and you think I’ll want to keep doing those things now?”

            “Yes” he whispered in a husky, broken-voiced drawl, speaking the words against Joji’s mouth. “And I’ll shock you ‘til you’re fucking dead if you don’t.” God, he was a bastard. He was a childish, greedy asshole of a boy and Joji could hardly tell if he was making out with a cheek or a mouth. The darkness blended the heated mess of Max into a single, fuckable entity with noises that could’ve competed with whores. He grabbed one handful of dress and pulling Max fully on his lap as the other cautiously loosened the collar on his neck. Fingers pulled hard at his hair. The tightly held remote brushed against his scalp. This was disgustingly satisfying in a desperate and deprived manner. Perhaps that’s why Joji had done it in the first place, unconsciously seeking out something that would fuck all routines and dismiss all opinions; a real conversation starter. But it was in the sudden light that flooded across their floor and onto their tangled bodies that he lost this epiphany and only winced.  

“Hey Max, is this your room? You’re sink’s blocked with fucking waste paper again. I think you’re going to need a plumber ‘cause there’s water leaking onto the tiles and... and what the fuck is going on here?” The footsteps earlier, Joji realized, had undeniable been the sound of Ian tiptoeing down to each room searching for Max. Now he’d finally opened the spare room door (perhaps under the assumption he and Joji were having a deep and meaningful or some gay shit, literally) poking his head through a fraction and peeking inside. From the slow toned disbelief, he’d seen enough to make a decent guess at what was occurring and though Joji couldn’t see Ian’s face, Max’s horrified expression made up for it. “This some behind the scenes shit?”

 

 


	3. Lechery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boo fuckin' hoo you're not the only one whose life's a piece of shit,  
> And yet miraculously somehow we all seem to deal with it.  
> Did anybody think that you would really seriously slit your wrists?  
> In fact I think that everybody thinks you're seriously full of shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again with this fucking disgraceful abomination, quoting MSI because this time I am an edgy twelve year old who wears stripey arm socks and dyes their fringe. We've all been this person once; god help us. Once again I ain't implying this is truth and anyone who thinks it is needs to get their head checked. I wish Human Cake had killed me. Enjoy.

In the journey between the fold-out couch and the rancid spare room Ian had managed to lose his glasses. Perhaps they’d been crushed on the way. Judging by the way he supported himself on the door handle he’d not yet slept away that night’s (or rather morning’s) drinking. Nevertheless he wasn’t blind without his glasses nor was he drunk enough to miss what occurred in the dark of that room between his two good friends. Joji watched Max’s face go through the motions of a dozen or so expressions as he tried to give Ian an answer that wasn’t completely gay.

 “Yeah, of course this is filming” Max finally announced with feigned casualness, pulling Joji’s hand from the collar with ease and readjusting it tightly. “This is a part at the end of the video. But I think I dropped my camera in the, um... folds” He began a pitiful attempt of rummaging through the mess of his skirt and unexplored creases in the mattress. Still sat upon Joji’s lap there was only so far he could reach before he sluggishly crawled off with an embarrassing attempt at subtlety. All he did was reveal the somewhat firm tent in Joji’s pants. Ian squinted further. Joji would bet a million dollars that the motherfucker could see perfectly by the grin that grew on his face.

“Is that the shock collar you’re wearing, George?” Max went still.

“No, mate, that’s just a tie” he answered rather loudly.

            “I think that’s the shock collar” Ian said playfully. “You wearing the shock collar aren’t you, George?” Once again Max gave him no room to answer (assuming he would’ve tried, by this point the need to vomit had returned).

            “Fuck off you couldn’t tell your arse from your elbow without your glasses.”

            “I can see you’re a lying cunt though.”

“It’s not a video, Ian” Joji said bleakly. The stark light of the hallway reminded him of his hangover; yes, it was certainly here now and running havoc through his skull. “This is all real. Get me some water before I die.”

“Oi, shut the fuck up, cunt. You don’t know what you’re talking about” Max snapped, wielding the remote in Joji’s direction and waving it patronisingly. Telling Max to fuck off would only stir a pot close to boiling. Joji remained silent, watching the scene with growing annoyance.  

 “Well, I ain’t a detective but you’re looking like the guilty party with that remote there, Max” Ian said.  

“That’s fucking bullshit mate. I could be holding anything up. See, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“One, asshole”

“Yeah, but can you guess which one?” As Max continued to flip Ian off in a test of his eyesight, the remote in his other hand was ignored. Joji watched the loose grip Max had upon it. It would barely take a well aimed swipe to send it flying. He had barely decided what the plan was before slapping Max’s hand hard enough for him to cry out but the remote did not budge. Shit. “You fucking little...” Joji dived on him before he could react and together they collided onto a pair of old shoes.  

 “This some fucking gay lover’s squabble?” Ian asked happily, evidently amused by the pathetic fight taking place on the mattress.

“All that before was just to get the remote off me, wasn’t it? It was all a fucking ruse!” A trembling fist hit his side with little impact. “Tell me, George, you fucking Jap bastard!” That was only half true. Though Joji had pinned Max down the other boy still had the blasted remote, turning the voltage up with frightening beeps before finally letting it loose. The torturous pain returned and he fell sideways. Was he yelling? It was hard to tell with the shock scrambling his brains. Once he started shaking it didn’t feel like it would stop. He knew he would vomit or shit himself or simply die. Joji closed his eyes and tried to remember what breathing entailed before he heard a new kind of yelling and the pain ceased.

Ian, sometime in the supposed squabble, had moved forward to hold Max’s arms tight behind his back, turning off the remote and tossing it aside. It looked like the prologue to Content Cop, minus the dorky uniform.

“Sorry Max but I think you’ve gone fucking menstrual in that dress.”

“Let me go, you stupid motherfucker! This is none of your business so fuck off!” Max squirmed like a fish in a net but Ian moved with him, his hold refusing to give. “I’ll scream. I’ll fucking scream!” He got out the beginning of a howl that could’ve been ‘help’ before Ian slapped a hand over his mouth only fling it away with a yell. (Really all three of them had screamed enough to make sure Chad would kick the shit out of them when he woke, though it was Max’s shrill yells for help that would have had the neighbours reaching for the phone).

            “He fucking bit me!” Ian exclaimed, shaking his bitten palm in pain as Max managed to loosen an arm from Ian’s grip. Max would inevitably break free and in a few short seconds shit would inevitably be hitting the fan. Joji just wanted to be engulfed in inky darkness, preferably with a subdued Max and maybe even a stronger than expected Ian. He glanced at Max’s neck and inspiration smacked him across the head; inspiration in the form of a horrible fucking idea.

“His shoulder...” Joji exclaimed, gasping as he tore at the Velcro of the collar. He could feel the skin there burned red and even to tentatively touch it was agony.  

“What?”

“Bite his fucking shoulder” Ian frowned in confusion.

“That’s pretty fucking gay, dude. Fuck!” He narrowly avoided a solid kick to the knee from Max who was hollering about rape. Ian only had a hold on the sleeve of his dress now.

“Just do it!”

“Jeez, okay!”  Ian groaned angrily, pulling Max closer by the dress strap.  

“Don’t you fucking dare, Ian. I’ll kick you so hard in the nuts and then I’ll get you fucking deported.....” Max warned, words falling into a drawl at the haughty bite on the skin of his collarbone. He immediately wobbled, tipping backwards against Ian and struggling for balance. He’d tried to muffle his moan with a shaking hand but through the attempted silencing it became how obvious the noises were. “Fuck”  

“Well shit, that’s interesting” And of course, as the impulsive, shit-stirring, button pushing asshole Ian was, he did it again. Joji watched Max’s toes curl, his flat chest shudder beneath the bust of the dress, a physical meltdown of pleasure all sourcing from the pressure on the shoulder. The two men sunk to the floor in a collection of gangly limbs and dirty satin. Joji could only watch in aroused shock as Ian experimentally licked a stripe from shoulder blade to neck and commenting on Max’s gasp, as if delivering the punch line of a dinner party joke, “Me likey”. This hadn’t been part of the plan though for Joji to claim there was a plan was a downright lie. He could only remind himself from the gradual return of his boner that some of the best plans weren’t even plans. They were attractive apart and together there was a twisted sexiness.

Joji must’ve sat holding the collar for five minutes, fixated on the hedonistic torture like a kid with their afternoon cartoons. Max barely moaned now, merely shivering and gasping for breath with his cheeks flushed red. With the door still ajar Joji could see the mark Ian had left, sucked into the pale skin. He was already nipping at the other unmarked side, Max breathing hard through his nose. 

“He’s like one of those Tickle Me Elmo’s but instead you bite him and he goes like... this. I don’t know what to call this. Like it, though.” He carded a hand through the mess of Max’s hair, slipping it beneath the bust of the dress. “It’s fucking hot when he’s wearing the dress” Ian said, seemingly unashamed at his actions.

“Shut the door for god’s sake” Joji demanded, crawling forward to sit on Max’s legs (not that he needed restraining now. He was boneless in his ecstasy). Ian smelt of spilt beer and burnt plastic, looking slightly manic with wide pupils and no glasses. There was even a tinge of red to his cheeks.   

“So this is what you were doing?” Ian asked.

“Yeah, pretty much” Joji answered, voice deep and raw. He rubbed his neck and winced only to be kissed hard. This time however it wasn’t Max. Ian forced his lips open and in a few short seconds demonstrated how much he did like it all.  

“This is so gay” Max moaned pitifully into the mattress, happily ignored by the two men. Ian bit hard at his lip before pulling away, panting and smiling, stumbling to the door and taking the handle. He paused. 

 “So do I get to choose whether I’ll be on the inside or the outside of this door when I close it?”

“You stay then it’s your choice, faggot. No pussyfooting” Ian seemed to consider the proposition, fixed between the light and darkness of the lit hallway beyond. There was surely something metaphorical in it but Joji couldn’t give a fuck as he watched Ian wander out of the room. Well that was fucking disappointing or at least that’s what he thought with a quiet sigh before the hallway light flicked off and he heard the door close quietly. Ian stumbled through the dark and sank to his knees somewhere in the mess near Max. The small slithers of streetlight that came through netted curtains were sparse and sporadic, one idyllically falling across Max’s cheek.

“Now,” Ian asked, “where were we?” Joji heard Max gasp for breath though it could’ve easily been a gulp.


	4. Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick of this fucking thing let's bury it in the ground with ten shots of tequila and my life dreams. Also known as the chapter where they G E T I T O N.

It was when defeat was harrowingly clear that the loser would shout the loudest. Joji had no doubt this applied for Max. He was, after all, Australian.

 “You two” he started as he began to squirm, “you two are fucked!” Kicking out with what little energy he had left Joji once again snatched his ankles and held them to the mattress. Max stilled when escape seemed futile. Even with his panted breath Joji could hear the tightness in his throat from what could’ve been furious tears. It was difficult to see in the darkness. “I fucking hate you!” They were the words of a boy in a dress who knew he’d been trumped.

 “You’re just as fucked as we are, _Maxime._ ” Joji had forgotten about Ian until his voice emerged from the dark, smug and patronising but still with a hint of affection. His lanky shadow of a figure appeared at Max’s back, leaning down to gnaw at his shoulder. Max fell back against him in a shuddering instant, trying not to whine while arching his neck for easy access. It was hard to imagine he’d ever complained.

“Don’t call me that, cunt” the boy in the dress could barely whisper in a hard breath outwards. Joji rubbed his thumbs against the skin of his ankles, leaning down to kiss the skin. The hair there was downy and he smiled against it. Max was trembling.

“Now, Maxime, you’re going to us your consent.” Ian said this as he busied himself shimmying down the bust of the dress to expose Max’s shuddering chest. “We are, after all, gentlemen and would never force ourselves on you” His fingers wandered to where breasts would’ve been and cupped the barely raised skin, finally coming to his nipples and rolling them between his fingertips. The reaction was small but arousing none the less; Max biting down on his bottom lip with his eyes firmly shut as he grabbed handfuls of the satin to still himself. Ian looked to Joji with a questioning glance, Max momentarily ignored. “He’s not gonna kick you now. Move further up, unless you’re a fucking chicken” Silently Joji complied, crawling into Max’s lap with Ian’s legs tangled by their sides. He would show him who the chicken was. He batted Ian’s fingers away from hard nipples and replaced them with his mouth, carefully biting down on the reddened numbs, first the right and then the left.  Max released sounds meant to be words that caught too hard on gasps. Ian had taken to biting the shell of his ear, carefully working down to the lobe before he spoke again, licking the earlobe. “Now, do we have your consent?” It was a long while of quiet moans in the darkness before Max finally answered.

“Yeah...” His cheeks were red and his eyes shut tightly. Max no longer struggled, finally accepting. Perhaps his resistance (and submission) was what made this all so appealing, that and the dress. It was highly possibly as a heterosexual man that Max was simply scared. Joji placed a hand on his hip and squeezed gently. He was close enough to Max’s chest to hear his heartbeat, a shuddering tattoo only growing faster in pace.   

“Perfect” Ian said with unexpected chipper. For someone who had been oblivious to the happenings of that night’s dramatics he had all too willingly adapted to it. Perhaps Ian was simply a natural born faggot.

Joji felt his hand on his skin, trailing lightly across his arm and pressing flat against his chest. In response he pulled off the shirt and abandoned somewhere beyond their tangle of bodies (never to be seen against in the shit-hole of a room), but the hand still remained, tugging him weakly forward until his nose bumped against Max’s. What Max wanted was clear but even with their lips casually brushing against one another’s cheeks he could not ask for it. Joji did it anyway. The kiss was like releasing a held breath or cracking your fingers or dropping an aspirin in a tall glass of water; ultimate satisfaction from the perfection of something so insignificantly small. Max’s mouth was so dry from constant gasping. Joji made sure to wet it thoroughly. He could hear Ian’s breathing beside him, harsh inhalations through the nose as he sucked another mark into the pale shoulder, one hand returning to Max’s chest as the kiss became more insistent. This should’ve been disgusting. It wasn’t. Joji closed his eyes and ran a hand through rabid brown hair before realizing Ian was tapping his shoulder.

“Well what about me, George? Ain’t I good enough?” Ian was leaning over Max and with a small sound Joji pulled away from one kiss and leaned forward into another. He felt a smile on Ian’s lips and the word ‘motherfucker’ muttered between them. Well, that was nice; from dry to unbelievably wet, mouldable to controlling. Ian held his jaw tightly, drummed a one finger tune against the skin as he licked into his mouth. It was Joji gasping now. For an absolute dork Ian had a kiss like a well aimed punch.

“I...” Max started, giggling breathlessly, face surely red, “I can feel your cock against my arse, Ian, you fuckin’ gay.” At that Ian tugged Max fiercely against him who yelped in surprise. It was difficult to keep track of everybody’s hands but Joji knew for sure someone was clumsily fumbling for his cock through his track pants. He readily accepted the clumsy fumbling, legs parting awkwardly as two fingers squeezed the shaft.

“I’m the gay? You’re the one giving George a hand-job” Well that was one mystery solved. He reached for the hand and Max allowed it to be grabbed.

“This is about you” Joji stated plainly, dragging his tongue from soft wrist to the top of his middle finger. His skin tasted nasty. It was a given. “You wanted me to finish what I started, didn’t you?” In the poor light he saw one of Max’s eyes, barely open and awash with empathy.

 “Y-yeah, finish what you started.” His spit slick hand ran down Joji’s cheek, nails catching on newly grown stubble. It was hard to find Max’s boner. The frilly waves of satin mingled with the shadows were like an ocean’s endless waves. Joji moved back, allowed Max’s legs to go either side of him instead of beneath him, tore through the fabric like a well wrapped present and decided to reach out and see. It only took a moment to find Max’s lower leg and travel upwards. Max moaned hard, legs clamping together with instinct. He’d obviously found it.

            “ _These_ ” Ian snapped as he pushed Max’s legs apart, “stay open. After everything you’ve put George through, he deserves a little compensation. Maybe a little of what’s here” His slender hand fell over Joji’s and pressed down hard on Max’s dick. It felt like a grotesque form of team building. Beneath two groping hands the boy only grew harder. Ian’s hand returned to the tangle that was Max’s hair, pulling a clump to angle his neck and plant fresh bruises. Joji barely heard what he said next, whispered so quietly into Max’s ear that it could’ve easily been an incoherent mumble. Still, he caught it. “Maybe I should put your hair up too, dirty girl.”  

Ian was a terrible influence. Max’s hair _would_ look good tied back with a fringe tumbling over his forehead; cute enough to pull it off but boyish enough to insist on its strangeness. Soon Joji was reaching further under the endless fabric of the dress and running blunt nails down Max’s bare thighs. He was wearing flimsy boxers beneath it, his usual pair of shorts noticeably absent. He probably hadn’t even bothered to sleep that night. Joji could imagine him sitting in the dark of the living room, eyeing the spare room door and silently doing shots as he summoned the audacity to sneak in. It was a delicious thought that had Joji reaching for the end of the dress and crawling beneath it. It was an intoxicating jungle beneath the material. Lost in the filthy fabric he finally found the light hair on Max’s thigh tickling his chin. He waited for a moment and allowed Max to sit in anticipation of what he thought was coming. His smirk was wide when he moved up his thigh and bit hard into the skin, hard cock brushing against him in a frankly alien sensation. The sound that left Max was glorious, a mix between a moan and a whinny that had one leg kicking outwards. It kept Joji sucking at the skin until he knew it had turned purple with a bruise. And he did it again, close to the crook of his leg and waist. These bruises could be hidden with ease but Ian’s would be hilariously difficult to keep from public eye. It wouldn’t matter how many scarfs he wore. People would know in one way or another Max Stanley had gotten fucked.

“I think you can cum from just this, can’t you?” Joji heard Ian ask. Max seemed to struggle with an answer, shaking all over and too incoherent to talk.  “You can’t?” Ian asked with a patronising kindness. “Well, I guess that’s just tough luck for you then because I wanna try.” From the sounds Max made next Ian had taken to biting the other shoulder. By the way his legs trembled, Max felt it. Before long Ian was speaking again.

 “Man, that looks fucking hot, George. You should totally suck him off.”

“He doesn’t deserve it.” The skin of his neck still felt raw. There was a short pause before Ian spoke.

“Does it fucking matter?” No, it really didn’t. Joji had molested a trashed Max in the bathroom and left him confused and aroused. Just five minutes before he’d sworn to finish what he’d started and here he was refusing. He dragged his tongue along the prominent shape of Max’s cock, still trapped beneath his boxers.

“Hm, I suppose...”

“F-fucking tease...” Max breathed out, barely audible.

“You don’t have to do it for Max.” Ian continued “Do it for me, do it for America.” At that, Joji laughed deeply.

“Fine, you fucking retard. I’ll suck him off for America.”

Joji had considered sucking a dick. To be fair, it was something every guy thought of once or twice in passing. It was something that had come up more than once in conversation (“So how much would you pay to suck someone’s dick?”) but always the instances were ones of blackmail or prostitution, spending a night in jail and recognizing the fact that in one way or another he was going to get fucked and it may as well be in the mouth. And yet now he was enjoying the teasing breaths against Max’s waistband, pulling it down with his teeth and having hot flesh spring up to hit his cheek. There was giving head under a forced hand and then there was sucking your best friend’s cock and enjoying it. This was the latter. From what he could hear Ian was continuing to torture him via bites to the top half, muttering things he could barely here that had Max moaning. Joji recalled his blunt statement and decided to abide by it. ‘Does it fucking matter?’ Did it matter if he was a little gay for Max? No, it didn’t. Taking a deep breath of stale dress air, Joji finally committed.

The reaction was instantaneous. Max hips jutted upwards and Joji held them down as he slowly sunk his lips further down the length in his mouth. The taste was unpleasant but not vomit worthy; unbelievably fleshy and salty but nevertheless the feeling of fullness in his mouth was surprisingly appealing. He did what had been done to him though surely sloppier, attempting to involve his tongue as his lips tightened along the shaft. He’d never been a good mimic. For a boy in a dress on the cusp of orgasm the technique didn’t make a difference.

“I’d fuck you right now if I could. From your moans I’d think I was screwing a girl” Ian stated. Joji imagined him rocking his hips against his arse. “Now give me your hand. I’ll give you something useful to do with it.” Now the mental images were simply too sinful. He sucked on the reddened head in his mouth, tonguing the tip and pushing bruises from his fingers into Max’s hips. He seemed to understand, stopping his bucking.

 “G-George, I’m gonna... Fuck, fuck, fuck... fuck me!” It was a warning. Max’s foot was hard against his back running along his side. Joji pulled away, replacing his mouth with his fast pumping hand and licking along the raised vein upon his cock.

“Bet you’d love that, getting fucked while you wear your pretty little dress, _Maxime_.” Joji barely heard a sound before he felt cum streak hard across his cheek and hand. Ian’s mutterings continued on until he fell from his high. He made sure to ride Max through it until the boy went soft. Cum was dribbling down his cheek as finally stopped and panted against Max’s leg, attempting to catch a breath of fresh air. There would never be anything dirtier than this. This was the zenith of absolute filth and all three were standing upon it.

Joji barely managed to struggle into the open air before lying on the mattress exhausted. With the dress pulled down Max’s neck, shoulders, thighs, and (remarkably) chest were blooming with red and purple bruises. His lips had that same tinge of red from then. Ian carefully lay him down and he barely stirred. For a moment all three of them remained silent. The horrible regret of getting off with two of his friends hadn’t yet set in. Joji doubted it ever would.

“That was the gayest thing I have ever done.” Ian said with a high laugh, running his fingers through his hair. He took a long glance at Joji, seemingly taking in the state of him. The grin he wore was contagious “I can’t believe you sucked him off, dude. That was impressive”

“Wasn’t that bad” Joji said in a deep growl. There was unsurprisingly a hard croak in his throat. He busied himself wiping his cum covered hand on a corner of the mattress though he was sure there was a small drop crusted against his lip. Ian moved forward on his knees, watching the other man silently and waiting for him to inevitably ask: “What?”

“I’m still hard. Wanna suck me off?” Joji could feel a hand reaching for his side, carefully pulling him closer. "Promise I'll do the same to you." The small movement had his head spinning and all at once Joji's symptoms of shittiness returned in full force.

“I’ll probably vomit. My hangover’s just arrived” he answered in earnest.

“Oh how fucking convenient” Ian said with a deliberate snark, moving himself closer still “Scared my cock will be too big for you?”

“It’s probably got fucking warts all over it.” They kissed over Max. As two men who were still painfully hard it was horribly tempting to keep the fun going, allow Ian to hold him as he’d done Max and see where the rest of the night took them. Yet the impending hangover was no lie. They had a video to film tomorrow and Joji knew they’d already be too fucked to do it right. Best not make it worse. He pulled away from Ian and held him back by the shoulders. Already he was squeezing Joji’s arse.

 “We better leave this here. Max needs to sleep. And I wasn’t lying about the vomit.”  

“Suppose that’s fair. I’ll be sure we continue this later. Plus I don’t really wanna sleep here. Smells like fucking cum. Oh and by the way Max, I wasn’t lying about the sink. There’s fucking water everywhere. ”

“I’ll deal with it. In the... ” Max managed to mutter in a half conscious state. “...morning.”

“Alrighty. I’ll be returning to the couch then.” Ian turned Max’s head to deliver one last sloppy kiss -tongue slipping from the mouth- and a squeeze to his arse before stumbling to the door. “I’ll see you faggots in the morning.” It opened and closed carefully. Joji swore he could see slithers of daylight in the hallway. It made it incredibly easy to see the outline of Ian’s boner in his jeans.

Max was already close to unconscious with the skirt of his dress riding around his waist and hair a tangle from constant pulling. In a terribly adorable fashion he’d settled where Ian had left him with his hands beneath his head and eyes softly shut. Still he spoke though, quietly as not to break the illusion of the passing night.  

“Why did you do it, George?” He whispered, words catching on a roughness in his throat. “I mean, I know I was shouting to stop and all but it was good”

Joji leaned down and kissed him at the frankly awkward angle. Lazily Max responded, reaching through the dark to press a palm against the other’s still hard cock. His hand however was lightly pulled away and replaced by his side. He wanted it (more than wanted, really. Willing to die for Max to suck him off) it didn’t take an idiot to know now wasn’t the time. for either of them Max’s hand remained outstretched on the mattress, too sluggish to be pulled back in.

“I think you’re fucking hot” Joji finally said and Max opened his eyes. His smile was small and tired but warm none the less.

“Oh, okay. Goodnight, then.” Max then closed his eyes and before a minute had passed his breathing had finally slowed and grown calm in slumber. Joji fumbled in the darkness for a few minutes looking for a blanket in the mess. In his exhaustion he gave up, collapsing against Max and sighing into the scratchy fabric of his dress. With a night like that he could be warm enough for the both of them. For now, Joji would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin.
> 
> I was going to offer to write a bonus chapter but that probably won't happen for several reasons. Too many times have I realized how fucked I am for any kind of peace after death by simply writing this story. This whole shit-storm of a tale has been a deep throbbing pain in my abdomen but you lot of lecherous, filthy fairies seemed to have enjoyed it and that makes it worth it. Let this Questionable Darkness allow you to explore your own stories and fantasies and for the love of Chin-Chin write them down so the rest of us can enjoy them too.
> 
> Bye-bye.


End file.
